Dark Seductions
by Solas-Divided
Summary: Everything was lost to her. Everything, except him. Angst, Dark, Drama, Horror, One shot, Porn Without Plot, Romance, Smut with Substance, Suspense, Tragedy


Dark Seductions

It was over. The second largest war the Wizarding world had ever seen had finally come to a gruesome end. Bodies lay broken and scattered across the courtyard, tingeing the air with the stench of blood. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry would never be the same. It would no longer hold the safety and security it once did. Everyone who had come to protect the ancient castle lay dead somewhere around her feet.

They'd lost. They hadn't been prepared. Dumbledore had died too quickly. He hadn't been there to tell them what to do. With his death, Harry had no chance of surviving against a dark wizard decades stronger than him. Even with his friends around him, he had fallen, a beautiful, pale figure amongst all the rest. His handsome face lay stone-like towards the dark, gray skies. His once sparkling green eyes were misted with a glaze of white, and stared unseeingly at nothing.

Distraught by the sight of their best friend falling to his death, Ron had not seen the flash of green until it had struck him straight in the chest. He lay face down in an awkward position, his red hair matted with dirt and blood.

Hermione was alone. She stood ankle deep in bodies with no idea where to go. Part of her knew that she should be amongst her fallen comrades, and she would have been many times by now had it not been for _him_. He had refused to let her die.

Maybe to punish her, to make her weak and vulnerable now that she was alone. Maybe to toy with her until she succumbed and pleaded for mercy. Whatever his reason, he had left her without a single living person in sight. The whole of Hogwarts seemed to echo like a tomb.

She was truly alone

The flutter of robes in the dank breeze, the crunch of steady feet across moist, blood-soaked grounds, she felt his presence coming up behind her. A smirk she didn't know she possessed twisted her mouth as tears cut her face.

So, he hadn't died. She thought.

"You look cold," he murmured, voice soft.

She didn't shrug off the robes he set around her shoulders. Her numb body welcomed the heat his had left behind amongst the filthy fabric. How much of the blood stains belonged to her friends? She wondered. But couldn't bring herself to ask.

"Why didn't you let me die?" for a moment, she wondered if there was someone else alive. The scratchy, weak voice that uttered the question sounded nothing like hers, but it must have been when he answered.

"Why do you think, Hermione?"

She turned to him, facing his unfathomable black eyes, his sharp features and the dark shadow coating his square jaw. "You killed everyone I loved."

He didn't deny it, nor did he look remorseful. "But did they love you like I do? I would protect you from anything; love you for everything you are, not just for what you can do for me, not just for your brains. They were never your friends, I know you know that."

She did know that, but damn him for making her see it when she should have been mourning. She didn't want her last thoughts of her friends to be malicious. She wanted to remember them as she had once seen them, happy, healthy and alive.

"Come with me, Hermione. Let me show you what true friendship, true love can be like."

She ignored the long, tanned fingers he presented her, but kept her gaze locked with his. "You're married."

A sad sort of smile tilted his face. "Didn't you hear? Molly Weasley killed her in battle. The Dark Lord is very upset."

"Are you upset?"

He shook his head. "She was the Dark Lord's wife, not mine."

"What do you want, Rodolphus?" she whispered, feeling the weight of defeat sitting heavily on her shoulders.

Hands coarse with hard labor grazed the side of her face, swiping away the traces of dirt and blood. He swept aside a tangled coil of golden-brown and tucked it behind her ear. His nearly black eyes watched her with such careful consideration, like he couldn't quite figure out how to word what he was about to say.

"What do you think I want, Hermione?" he finally asked.

"You're a Death Eater," she pointed out, hating that she couldn't bring herself to loath him the way she should. Her friends and family were all dead because of this man, and all she could do was turn her face into the scratchy skin of his palm and seek the comfort he offered.

He took her gesture as a safe sign to move in closer, nearly putting no space between them at all. Both his hands framed her face, keeping her gaze steady with his.

"The Dark Lord won, Hermione," he murmured, lovingly tracing the curve of her cheeks with his thumbs. "What will you do now? Mourn for the people who would have given you no thought at all should you have been the one in their place? Will you grieve for those who had thought so little of you that they would send you to face the greatest, evil wizard alone? Or will you come with me and be protected, loved, wanted?"

"He'll kill me," she whispered, wanting desperately to accept the treasures he promised. She had waited too long for the chance to feel everything he offered. Harry and Ron had been her best friends, but she had known long ago that it was simply because of what she could do for them. They wanted her intelligence, her quick wit. They wanted her to get them out of constant trouble. But it was never about her. They had never accepted her.

"He will give you to me," he vowed, silkily maneuvering into her thoughts and drawing her attention back to him. "Just say that you will be mine."

His. Belong to the enemy. Betray everything her friends had worked towards and give herself to the man who helped kill them.

"Loyalty is something the Dark Lord rewards," he told her, tracing a path with his fingers down the curve of her neck. "He will look to you for wisdom and guidance. Together we will be his most prized followers. He will reward us beyond our imaginations."

"He's a half-blood, you know that, don't you?" she murmured, shivering at the tickling sensation of his hot breath against her chilled cheeks.

He drew back, but only by an inch to peer into her eyes. "He still managed to kill Dumbledore and Harry Potter. Now he will right the world of all its wrong and we can be there, together! Stay with me."

His lips brushed hers, coaxing the chapped and bloody folds apart. She found no strength to push him away. She didn't even think she wanted to. His words were so seductive, like he knew exactly what was in her longing heart and was willing to give them to her. He didn't lie or sugarcoat his words, answering her honestly and without hesitation. He had saved her life repeatedly throughout the night, constantly appearing at her side, fighting both sides to keep her safe. He had killed one of his own to protect her.

"Why?" she gasped, lashes falling closed at the sweet torture of his mouth wondering down the side of her face towards her ear, his whiskers scratching her sensitive cheeks and sending tingles along her spine.

"Because I knew – the minute I had you in my arms at the Department of Mystery – that I wanted you. I think I may have fallen in love with you that night. You were so brave, so loyal and beautiful. And when I held you, you smelt so…intoxicating. I didn't want to let go. I promised myself at that moment that I would always be there to keep you safe."

"You tried to kill me," she reminded him, hands moving out from the folds of his robes to clutch his shoulders for support when her knees shuddered.

He shook his head, his face nuzzling the arch of her throat. "Never. I was trying to keep you from helping Potter and the others. I knew you would get killed if I let you join them. You were – and always will be – safe with me."

"Would you leave the Dark Lord for me?" she asked, blinking up at him when he drew back.

"I would move the world for you," he replied instead. "With the Dark Lord as our ally we will be unstoppable and powerful. We will have control."

She hadn't missed his clever sidestep of her question, nor could she bring herself to deny the spark that enlightened her chest at the thought of finally being the one in control. Harry had always been the one to call the shots, even when he'd ask for her opinion; he would ignore her sound advice and plunge them headfirst into danger time and again.

"I will always heed your words," he placated, voice warm like liquid honey. "Nothing means more to me than what you want, what you need. I will cherish, love and protect you for as long as you'll have me."

His face found home in her neck once more, nibbling and suckling the salty skin. His long fingers curled at her waists, drawing her flush against the powerful contour of his. Her battered body sparked to life with a burning desire she'd never felt before. Places that had lain dormant burst to life with hunger, aching for his touch.

"Let me love you," he rasped huskily. "Let me make the hurt stop."

A whimper stole from her lips as his sly fingers skated down her side to the curve of her backside, pushing away the plaited skirt to smooth over hot, bare flesh. His callous palms scratching her pale skin felt so wonderful, she never wanted it to stop.

"Rodolphus," she moaned, clutching him tighter with shaky, bloody fingers.

"I am here, dearest," he soothed, hooking long fingers beneath the elastic of her cotton panties and forcing them to her ankles. "I'll always be here," he trailed kisses to her collarbone, his hand moving between her parted thighs. "I'll always love you."

She strangled sob tore from her throat, her head falling back at the first brush of his digits against her moist center. Her juices were spread over her lips, sleeking her swollen and desperate clit. Each calculated scrape sent more cream rushing to her center, building the fire crackling in the pit of her belly until she could barely stand it.

"Please…!" she panted, arching into his hand, hips grinding for release.

"Anything for you," he vowed, lifting her up into his arms, legs around his trim waist and moved her the slight distance to a fallen column.

The smooth, ivory stone felt frigid against her bare flesh when he set her upon it, parting her legs to accommodate his hips. His left hand went up to the back of her head, cradling and fisting into her hair, tipping her face for a brutal kiss as his right hand freed him of his pants.

She wondered if she should tell him when the head of his erection stroked her opening, but the words never left her throat when he slammed home inside her. Her cry of pain and pleasure split the air. Around her, he stiffened. His arms crushed her against the pounding in his chest, hot breath bathing the side of her flushed face.

"Baby," he panted, kissing her temple. "I'll go slowly."

She shook her head, digging her nails into the taut muscles of his backside. "No, don't stop, please."

He kissed her, filling her with all the love and longing swirling behind his eyes. His hips began their pump, filling her over-and-over again with his hard length. For all his speed and strength, his movement was gentle, careful and designed to stimulate her with every thrust. He continued to kiss her, swallowing every moan and whimper that left her. His hand freed itself from her hair and wondered down to cup her covered breast. He pinched and streamed the hardened nipple, sending her in a tizzy of ecstasy to match the agony of his hips were exciting down below.

"Yes!" she hissed, head falling back as the sharp spear of release pierced through her. Her passion was intensified by the scrap of his teeth against her nipple and his name split from her lips as she shattered around him.

"I love you," he rasped, gripping her hips and pushing deeper inside her.

Body lax with content, Hermione didn't feel the abuse or the spray of his hot release until he shuddered and grunted into her neck, washing her thundering pulse with his hot breath.

He didn't pull away after, but continued to hold her, keeping his softened cock buried inside her as he stroked her back and hair.

"I was your first," he murmured, once their breathing slowed slightly

It wasn't a question, but she nodded.

He drew back and kissed her tenderly. "I'll be your last," he whispered, against her mouth. "I will be your only."

Again, she nodded, knowing that no matter what happened, she would be his, not because of fear or force, but because a large part of her wanted to be. It may not have been love, but it was close. He was the only one who knew the real her, the only one that made her feel loved and cherished. She wanted that. She wanted him.

He gently gathered her up and drew her to her feet, smoothing down their clothes and placing kisses every where he could reach. Hermione kicked away the remains of her panties from where it had looped around her ankle. It fell a short distance from a body she didn't recognize. It should have been unnerving to know she'd just had sex with a Death Eater just a few feet from where her friends' bodies lay– and enjoyed every minute - if she didn't have the strangest urge to laugh hysterically and repeat what they'd done.

"It'll be ok," Rodolphus murmured, stroking away the tears she hadn't realized she'd shed. "I'll make you happy. Just let me show you how wonderful things can be with us."

A shuffling caught their attention, drawing their gazes across the courtyard towards the opening leading into the bowels of Hogwarts. There – in all his pale, unearthly features – stood Lord Voldemort, surrounded by his followers. Amongst them she could see Draco and Lucius Malfoy, and even Severus Snape. People, who would have spat on her once, now were watching her, waiting for her to join them.

"It's time, dearest," his hand was presented to her again. "Be by my side."

She didn't even glance at Harry when placing her hand gently in his and letting him lead her over the fallen heroes towards her new Lord.


End file.
